The Seven Stones
by Darknight13
Summary: (rated because of violence and well, bloodgut type things sorry) Well, I don't know if anyone has ever heard of the books that I'm crossing here, but hey I JUST HAD to write about them! Hope you likey!


The downpour continued throughout the night, a heavy sound upon the roof. Its constant rumble of thunder a warning over the small city, the flashes of lighting that came before it lit up every room and every alleyway making children cry in fright and cats scatter. A heavy mist hung onto the streets and bluildings, making the small village seem like a cloud. It's dampness sneaking in through small cracks in the windows and doors, chilling every place it touched. The cloaked figure moved in the shadows, the condensation clinging to his clothes making it uncomfortable and clammy, but still he pushed on towards the welcoming light of the Sniper Inn. It's window a pulsing wave of warmth and comfort, within a fire burned bright and logs cackled at all those who refused it's heat. As the figure approched the door he could hear the men laughing and telling tales inside, the children crying to stay up later, and the mothers yelling that it was time for bed. A smile edged to his lips as he opened the door and warmth gave way to the chill. Everyone turned as one to look at the figure, the first one to speak was the old man sitting in the chair closest to the fire, "It's about time you showed up, Alex! We've been waiting for over three hours!" as the old man rambled on Alex removed his cloak and hung it on the rack to dry. "Alexander are you listening? You're supposed to be leader when I die and you haven't done a thing to prove yourself, you haven't even completed your first task! What are you going to do with your life when the others reject you as an unfit leader?" Alex grinned, that old man had some guts talking like that. He moved over to the table and motioned the bar tender for an ale. It was brought to him within seconds, "You don't care do you Alex?" the old man stated, "As a matter of fact Barsimon, I care only for my own state of being. That's the way it has always been, you would think after seven years you would know that." Alex remarked with a smile. The old man only sighed and gazed into the fire, now fully lost in thought. "So Alex how's the valley?" A young woman asked, approaching him with caution. Everyone was like that around Alexander, everyone feared him for some reason, they stayed clear of him as if he were a deadly desease. Better that way, he thought. "Fine, in fact it's perfect. The soldiers were driven out yesterday afternoon, and the farmers again own their land. Of course the fresh vegetables and fruits won't be in harvest for another year, but the traders come into town in a few days. So no worries there." Alex sighed, he hated it in the valley. He went only to get word of what the partrols were doing, yet somehow he always ended up with more then that. He took another sip of ale and sighed again. The door suddenly burst open and in emerged a tall, dark figure. In his left hand he bore a deadly mace, in the other hand he had a long hunting knife, both were stained with blood. Alex jumped up from his chair, knocking it down he stood in front of the figure blocking any passage forward, "Who are you?!" the figure moved towards Alex with speed that was unseen, swinging his mace wildly hitting Alex in the shoulder. Blood ran down Alex's arm, a steady flow that rendered it useless. Alex again repeated his question, now motioning for the others to stand back a silent thought passed between all of them at that point in time. The old man dove forward, heedless of alex's warning, "NO" alex shreeked. The mace came crashing down upon Barsimons head, a stunning blow that killed the old man instantly. Stunned all eleven men stood still, all that is, except Alex. Drawing his bow he shot, but it bounced off the figure with little as a scratch left, the man swung his sword out in a deadly arch knocking alex's bow from his still hands. The figure then used the hunting knife, stabbing Alex straight into the leg drawing it back with a painful crunch of tissue and bone. Alex whimpered and then stood up, by now the other men in the room were rushing forward to help. All were thrown back with one swing of the gian mace. The first four took blows to the chest and died instantly, the seven others were on the man. All were, again, thrown back two more went down. Now only five remained, two drew back their bows and shot. The arrows bounced off without leaving a mark and the man attacked them all with one swing of the giant mace. It's deadly spikes making no sound at all, and it's victims even more silent. The figure then turned back to Alex who was still on his feet but swaying madly to keep his balance. Blood coated his tunic and both his right leg and left arm were useless. Alex, broadsword in hand, cursed aloud as the he saw the mans face "You bast.." he was cut off as the mace swung into the air, a deadly whisper..then all went still. Leaving nothing left but jumbled bodies and a pool of blood, the man walked out of the inn. Chuckling to himself he muttered, "Fools" and walked into the alleyway. Eight others joined him. "Is it finished master?" one asked. "Of course it's finished you moron! Now then 'master' where is our pay?!" The leader turned, eyes red with anger and adressed his followers. The seven shrunk back, but the boldest stayed he had spoken the deadlest words to their master. With a silent scream he was left in the alleyway for the maggots. "Bold wasn't he my pets? But you are all followers to me aren't you, you wouldn't dare oppose me?" in unisision they answered "No master, we always serve you" a hiss of pleasure came from the master. Good, he thought, mindless as they should be.  
  
The sun boomed out of the eastern horizon, leaving a trail for the travelers that passed. One group came down the road, a caravan full of strange people. Some played pipes and entertained farmers, others sang and danced with their scarfs of silk trailing, and still others just walked paying respect to the little children that seemed to be entrainced by the entertaining group. One family stood out from the rest, they were dressed in fine rover silks and seemed to be leading the others to the small village down the hill. It consisted of a tall man, wearing green silk, a young woman wearing red, and a small child holding on to the older mans hand laughing and singing gayly to herself. The man had hard cole black eyes, and stood very tall over the others. He turned to the little girl singing by his side and she stopped instantly, her face turning serous, "Mina go and check into the inn for us, tell them all that they need to know and nothing more my dear." Her eyes lit up and she skipped ahead towards the inn still laughing to her own little joke. "Sir would you like some bread?" a scottish tone asked from his side. Squinting he saw it was a baker with a tray full of fresh donuts and sweets, "No thank you my good man, but you could you possibly.." he was cut off by a blood curtling scream from his daughter, he was instantly by her side sheilding her eyes from the gruesome sight. Twelve men lay dead inside the inn, their mouths agape in silent screams their eyes glazed over and it reeked of death. He called his wife to him and told her to take Mina from the inn and find another place to stay. "Marcus whats going..." algan choked as he entered the inn behind Marcus, "Go and get an authority, tell him detective Marcus asked for him. GO!" Marcus screeched and ran up the stairs. "Yes sir" algan dashed out of the inn screaming for help like a little child who had just lost his cat. Upstairs Marcus opened the first door and a rush of death came through his notrils he pinched them closed and looked around. In the center of the room sat four women, one looked pregnent with a child, the other three looked like nurses. In the corner a single bed sat with four tiny babies and one teenage child. He winced and closed the door, quickly he moved on to the second. In this room sat one man, elderly in his age a dagger in his chest, under him looked like his grandchild a tiny boy. Marcus gagged and shut the door. Leaning against the third door he cracked it open and little to his surprise he saw a man and woman laying comfortably in bed. They looked so happy together, they must not have seen their killer. As if on que the authority he asked for came bounding up the stairs, "Are all dead?" he asked, "Yes, but I haven't checked the last room. I'm positive the result is the same though." the shieriff opened the fourth door and shook his head in disgust. "What do you think happened?" he asked marcus, "Dunno sir, suppose someone wanted revenge on these poor familys, I suggest you let me try to find some clues. You do know who I am right?" the cop nodded, "Of course". With that they headed towards the front door, shutting it tightly behind them.  
  
"Why don't you come to bed darling?" Lena asked her husband Marcus. They had found another inn called the Otinta, and stayed there for the night. Mena had finally fallen asleep after all the horror she had witnessed that morning, and now Marcus couldn't clear his eyes of the vision. "All those men, those children.." he choked on the words. He turned towards his wife, the beauty that usually helped him understand the cases. He had searched the inn several times over for any clues as to what might have happened to those familys but none were to be discovered. Her blue eyes looked up and him and he hugged her, stroking her blonde hair and running his fingers along her chestnut skin. He shivered and pulled away from her, too much on his mind. "I know it's my job to take care of these things, I mean I see this type of thing everyday! I just, I can't understand it! It's bothering me..." he sighed and turned to the window again. His shut his eyes and ran his fingers through is brown hair, then opened them again to see their black reflection in the window. "I'm going for a walk, see you later." he planted a soft kiss on her cheek then grabbed his cloak and walked out the door. What was wrong with him, lena thought as she undressed and put her night clothes on. Maybe he needs to switch jobs, she thought to herself with a smile. The last thing she saw was her daughter laying before her on the bed, she sighed and closed her eyes to the welcome sleep.  
  
Once outside the inn Marcus headed for the sniper. Maybe if he looked again he would find something he hadn't seen before, that would ease his mind. Maybe he would find a clue as to what had happened! "I'm a detective, I should be able to find something!!" he scolded himself. With a set face he walked the streets of Marbella, it was a small city everything was close together. You had your center square for entertainment and shops, and your outside permeter for homes and inns. It was a peaceful place for somone who lived here all the time, he wished he could settle down here, but his job wouldn't permit it. His wife and daughter could, but lena wouldn't leave him to stay in one place until Mena was old enough to go to a school. Last time he had brought it up it had resulted in a scolding. He grinned at the thought in spite of his mood, and turned down another street. Why did that slaughter bother him so muc? Why was this one so bad? His smile faded into a scowl and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Just calme down, it's another case and you're upset because you daughter saw it, thats all." He muttered to himself, all the while knowing it wasn't true, he knew there was something more behind what he felt. He turned left and slowed at the sound of laughter, it seems the police hide well the fact that over a dozen people got killed. By now the city should be locked down and guards all over the place. For the first time since he left the Otinta he noticed that there were no lights on, no cautions being taken. It was as if the murder had never occured. "Odd he mumbled to himself, he shrugged it off as meer suspicion and wakled down another street. A breeze ruffled his clothing and mixed up his hair, he lifted his head and looked at the moon and stars. Taking a deep breath he smiled and looked back down and his feet, his smile slowly dissipated when the smiper inn took form in the distance. He walked slowly now, not really wanting to get there yet knowing thet he must. The bodies and blood would be cleaned up by now, he knew, but nevertheless he wanted to avoid another confrontation with any leftovers. He turned down another allyway and watched the ground, lost in thought he failed to see the shadow pressed against the wall. As he passed the cloaked man breathed a sigh of relief, and headed down the alley, opposite the direction of the other. Marcus again turned down another street, going as slow as possible, and taking his time at a leasurly pace. Choosing the longest paths he could find, and kicking his feet. The inn loomed in the distance, a shadowy silhouette on the horizon, a simple reminder that death lingers in the smallest cracks. Marcus brought his gaze up to the structure, it looked back in thoughtless disregard at the small man. He walked forwards, nearing the ened of his destination and sighed. "Here we go" he mumbled and walked into the inn. Just as he suspected the bodies had been cleaned and taken to the morgue hours ago, but it still reeked of death all over. He shivered and looked around, there had to be some clue as to what the murderer had come for! He scolded himself for being impatient. 


End file.
